


After the fall

by Cold_Little_Heart_Doll



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Living Together, Showers, Sleeping Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-24 20:54:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20364940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cold_Little_Heart_Doll/pseuds/Cold_Little_Heart_Doll
Summary: After the events in The Reichenbach Fall, Sherlock finds shelter in Molly's flat for a few weeks until Mycroft makes the arrangements to send him abroad.Sherlock and Molly are drawn closer by the circumstances.  They soon find themselves figuring out their feelings for one another when, all of a sudden, its time to Sherlock to leave.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's my first Sherlolly fanfic. I wanted to explore their relationship as if it were a lab experiment, with both of them mainly isolated from their usual environment.
> 
> It's been a while since I have written fanfic. 
> 
> Hope you like!
> 
> Please read and review!

Chapter 1

The street lights shone over the dew-covered sidewalks of London creating long and bright yellow stripes over the pavement. In the distance, the wail of an ambulance could be heard, getting lost in the silence that fell upon the sleeping city.

Molly exited the cab and made her way into the building, keys in one hand, bag in the other as emotions stirred deep in her chest.

She climbed the stairs and walked down the hallway to her apartment silently so as not to disturb her neighbors down the hall.

Taking a deep breath Molly inserted the key and paused, preparing herself, steadying her thoughts and evening out her breathing before entering. In her heart she knew that everything was pointless; it didn’t matter how much she attempted to achieve control, Sherlock always managed to weaken her resolve with one single look. One single look of his gorgeous blue eyes.

As she entered, the living room’s darkness was briefly slashed in two by the fluorescent light of the corridor and quickly restored when the door shut behind her back. Dropping the bag, keys, and coat on the sofa, she smoothed her sweater down and silently started to make her way towards her bedroom. 

From under the closed door, she could see the light was on and Molly knew he was there, waiting. 

Her breath caught in her throat, a mix of anticipation and nervousness. It had not been the easiest day for her. It had not been the easiest day for any of them.

Reaching the far end of the hallway she was suddenly faced with Sherlock, when he abruptly opened the door having picked up on the creaking the floorboards made under her tiny feet.

“You are here”, he said impatiently and a little out of breath. He shook his head at the obviousness of his remark and moved away from the doorway, allowing her room to walk in.

“Sorry it took so long but everything was crazy at Bart's,'' she responded as she made her way into her bedroom.

Earlier they had agreed that once everything had settled that dreadful afternoon when things had quieted down after his 'suicide', Sherlock would come to her apartment and wait there for her. It was the only safe place for him to be until other arrangements were made by Mycroft.

“Everything is done?” he asked.

“Yes,” she responded fidgeting with the edges of her sweater sleeves and sitting at the edge of her bed added, “It’s done. You are dead Sherlock; just like you asked.”

As he heard those words, he released the doorknob and made his way towards Molly. Hesitating he sat next to her and looked vacantly into the far empty wall.

“Did you see John?” he asked.

Molly nodded and took a deep breath trying to steady her heart.

“John was devastated,'' she said as she turned to look at him. The words seemed to hurt her throat as she delivered them. It pained her to see John so sad and unaware of everything that was going on.

“Why can’t you tell him, Sherlock?” she asked seeking his eyes with her own. “Why?”

Sherlock turned slightly and read the concern on her face written all over her features. She was frowning, looking down at her hands as her fingers continued to play nervously with her sweater. Molly’s shoulders were slumped forward, burdened, and quickly Sherlock understood the importance of what he had asked of her and the impact it had.

“Molly” he started saying, as his voice reverberated all around the room. “John was one of Moriarty’s targets, just like Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson. Until we have control over the whole network they are still going to be in danger. The only way to keep them safe is this. I had to die”. 

She nodded disappointedly knowing how much pain all of them would have to endure but she understood his point.

“How long are you going to stay?” she asked not looking at him. Avoiding eye contact seemed to ease the pain of learning things she didn’t want to know.

“A few days...until Mycroft and I figure out the plan,” he explained as he rubbed his palms over his thighs, straightening the fabric of his trousers over and over.

“And after that? How long will you be gone?"

“Maybe weeks could be months,” he responded as Molly’s head instantly turned towards him.

She wasn’t expecting Sherlock to stick around forever after his orchestrated “death” but she had not anticipated how long the pretense had to last.

Sherlock, regardless of his emotional detachment, realized deep down what it all meant. He was determined to do everything to dismantle Moriarty’s network but knew that it came at a high price. He had disregarded feelings as a weakness all his life but at that moment he came close to understanding what concern for another human being meant. Sherlock had friends. John, Molly, Mrs. Hudson, and even Lestrade were his friends and friends who were cared for, honored and protected.

Turning to face her he waited until she had made eye contact with him and started to say, “Molly, you have been an extraordinary friend to me. I know I have asked a lot from you today and I will forever be grateful for that”.

Molly understood perfectly. Inside her mind, everything seemed logical. The problem was that she couldn’t help the feeling of uneasiness that crept up her stomach. It was the biggest secret anyone had ever asked of her. It was a life or death situation for so many dear friends. And most of all, it was Sherlock the one asking for her help. Sherlock was the one reaching out to her, of all people. Something she never thought could even be remotely possible.

Molly nodded. What was done was done and it was time to move forward, even if it meant that Sherlock was to leave soon and she dreaded the idea of losing him. Even if she had never really had him.

Getting up, she started to make her way into the kitchen.

“Have you eaten anything?” she asked and disappeared down the hall.

SHSHSHSHSH

Afraid that anyone would spot him through the main room windows, they ate dinner in her bedroom. In the back, the telly was on and the news was all about Sherlock.

Molly sat with her legs crossed under her and a bowl of pasta in her hands while Sherlock sat opposite her, at the foot of the bed in the same position and with his back to the screen.

“Before I left tonight Mike told me to take a couple of days off for the funeral and to sort out anything I needed to tend to,” she said in between bites and trying to make conversation.

On the other end of her bed, Sherlock balanced his bowl in one of his hands, the food untouched as his eyes made contact with her when she spoke.

“I’ll let Mycroft know," he responded. “He was going to deliver a package to you at Bart’s but I'll tell him to send it here."

As she listened to him, Molly struggled with a single rebellious spaghetti noodle that fell from her fork and ended up landing on her chest, on the only patch of skin her shirt left exposed.

At that precise moment, Sherlock’s eyes broke away from the screen and followed the spaghetti as it stuck to her white skin.

“Bugger,” said Molly a little ashamed as she set the bowl down on the nightstand and picked the offending noodle from her chest.

Sherlock couldn’t help but smile. 

“Are you laughing at me?” she asked annoyed as she looked down at her clothes.

“There is a bit of sauce umm…,” he said as he gestured in her direction, waving his finger in the air.

“Where?” she asked looking down at her shirt with her napkin clutched in her hand.

“There Molly,” he said getting exasperated as she failed to find the small streak of tomato sauce that was dangerously close to her breasts.

“Did I get it?” asked Molly feeling her cheeks starting to burn in embarrassment.

Setting his bowl down, he moved across the bed to where she was, kneeling next to her, he reached out and removed the little drop of sauce with his thumb and, bringing it up to his lips, licked it clean.

Molly just sat there, frozen, staring at Sherlock, feeling her heart pumping like crazy inside her chest. Staring at him, she wondered how he was capable of making such a mundane gesture so enthralling. 

Molly whispered, “Thank you,” feeling a little exposed. 

He gave her a quick smile and standing up took their bowls to the kitchen.

When he returned, he found Molly had gone to the bathroom and without giving any thought to it, laid down on the far side of the bed watching telly.

In the bathroom, Molly inspected her face as she reflected on her day and her current situation. She looked tired…she felt tired. 

She washed her face and let her hair down before changing into her pajamas. Once again, before exiting she checked her face in the mirror and came to terms with the fact that she wasn't looking her best. Shaking off the feeling she opened the door, turned out the lights and walked back to the bedroom.

Molly came to an abrupt stop at the sight of Sherlock Holmes laying down on her bed. His hands were resting on his stomach, his head was slightly tilted to the side and his legs were stretched out, crossed at the ankles.

Noticing Molly standing at the door, he sat up and resting on his elbow casually asked, "You don't have a problem if we share the bed, right?"

"Umm..yes...no...I mean…" she stuttered, taking a timid step forward, "it's fine."

And with that, she climbed into bed with him and got under the covers. Grabbing her mobile from the nightstand she attempted to distract herself from his presence and sudden closeness when Sherlock took the device from her as if confiscating it and said, "You should go to bed Molly. You have my funeral to attend tomorrow.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like!
> 
> Please let me know!!!!
> 
> Xoxoxo

Chapter 2

A bell was ringing somewhere but Molly couldn't make out where it was coming from so she cuddled up and allowed sleep to take over.

She was dreaming of Sherlock under the warm sun, sprawled out on the grass, holding her in his arms when she heard a loud bang on the door.

Instantly alert, she turned towards the bedroom door to find Mycroft Holmes standing there. Looking immaculately polished in a black suit.

He cleared his throat and walked in the room and around the bed as Sherlock opened his eyes to find Molly resting on his chest and his arm around her waist, holding her close.

"I see you two are getting along fine," he said with the usual edge to his words.

Mortified, Molly pushed away and sat at the edge of the bed, as far away from Sherlock as possible.

"What are you doing here?" She asked.

"I stopped by to talk to my brother and see if you, Dr. Hooper, needed a ride to the funeral," explained Mycroft.

Molly quickly gathered the front of her pajamas as if covering herself and glancing over at Sherlock said, "I'm going to get ready."

Both men remained silent until Molly was out of the room. Mycroft gave Sherlock a look that was both complicit and disapproving.

"Sleep well?" asked the older Holmes as he reached the far end of the room and pushed the curtains open to peek outside uninterestedly.

"Like a dead man, Mycroft," responded Sherlock sarcastically, as he sat up and pushed away from the bedsheets. "Any news?"

"I left a package for you on the kitchen counter," said Mycroft as he paced the room. "Everything we have on Moriarty is there."

Just as Mycroft had finished speaking, Sherlock had jumped out of bed and made his way to the kitchen. As if he were a little kid on Christmas morning, he emptied the contents on the laminated surface of the counter and shuffled all the papers. At the bottom of the pile, he located a large map and unfolding it, laid it on top of everything in front of him and studied it.

“Are you sure every Moriarty associate that has been identified is on this map?"

“Positive,” responded Mycroft as he made his way around the sofa and inspected it closely before taking a seat. "We are expecting more intelligence in the upcoming weeks to make a proper assessment of the operation, domestically and abroad. Do you think you can manage a few more weeks here with Miss Hooper?"

Mycroft's words were laced with a little sarcasm but Sherlock just ignored him and casually asked “Tea?” 

Mycroft glared at his younger brother and smirked. Sherlock wasn't the kind to get emotionally involved but he was susceptible to poor judgment on occasion and Mycroft feared that he was about to embark on a mistake. One that could compromise the operation. One that could compromise Sherlock.

As the consulting detective handed a cup of tea to his brother, Mycroft warned him.

"Did it ever occurred to you that Miss Hooper would rather be a matter of importance than a just a matter of convenience, brother mine?"

Sherlock frowned. He didn't appreciate the comment, especially considering it was none of Mycroft's business.

"She is...," started to say Sherlock just as she walked in.

Molly entered the living room ready to go. She was wearing a discreet black dress, fitted at the top and flaring a little at the hips. It was a subtle dress that looked beautiful on Molly’s petit figure.

“Shall we?” asked Mycroft leaving his cup on the coffee table and heading for the door. "Stay out of trouble brother."

Molly put her coat on and glancing at Sherlock over her shoulder uttered a soft “goodbye” before stepping out into the cool hallway.

SHSHSHSHSH

Later in the afternoon, when the sun had started to set in the horizon, Molly returned to her flat and after closing the door behind her back, let her body fall and sink into the sofa as she kicked off her black shoes and rubbed her temples.

Sherlock walked into the sitting room almost on cue and sat opposite her, in the chair he had claimed as his own.

“How did it go?” he asked.

“Fine,” she responded rather coldly. 

“Just fine?” he inquired a little further.

“It was a funeral, Sherlock. It wasn’t exactly fun,” she stated as a light headache started building inside.

“Anything that might have stood out as odd?” he asked once again.

“No Sherlock. Just people mourning and crying for you.”

He nodded, knowing it wasn’t wise to keep asking. It was obvious that everything had gone as planned and there was nothing substantial to report.

They both fell silent for a moment feeling the air around a little thick and heavy. Molly closed her eyes and let her head fall back and rest on the back of the sofa as Sherlock observed her. She had kicked off her shoes the moment she stepped in which probably meant that her feet were hurting. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that one out. However, and even though she was just quietly sitting next to him, there was something else about her demeanor that bothered Sherlock. And as she brought her arms around to wrap around her waist in a protective way it dawned on him. She was feeling self conscious.

“About this morning,” he started to say as Molly gave him a serious look. “I…”

She wasn’t comfortable with the idea of talking about what had happened even if it was not important and harmless. She had just fallen asleep in his arms and, in return, he had held her close and tightly. There was nothing wrong with that, except for the fact she felt weird about it.

“It’s ok Sherlock,” she interrupted him. “It was nothing really...although, next time tell your brother to stay out of my bedroom...that was creepy,” she concluded with a light shudder.

Sherlock laughed and shook his head. “Mycroft is creepy.”

She laughs too and the tension was diffused.

“So...did you and Mycroft figure everything out?”

Sherlock nodded and added, “We are waiting on some new information to figure out a course of action and when and where I will be needed.”

“And in the meantime?”

“In the meantime, I will be staying here with you,” he responded assertively.

“Ok,” she responded fighting the thrill of having him stay for a while longer. Even though it felt rather strange to have him around, day and night, all the time, she liked the idea. All of this was for the greater good, Molly assured herself every time she thought about the current living arrangements and deep down she liked having him there. It wasn’t in the way she had always dreamed of but it was ok.

To her surprise, Sherlock got up and sat next to her. Reaching out he touched the side of her arm and leaned closer to plant a soft kiss on her cheek. But this time, the kiss wasn’t like the one from that awful Christmas evening. It wasn’t apologetic. This one was filled with gratitude and felt both spontaneous and genuine.

“Thank you,” he whispered, before getting up and walking away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!
> 
> Please read and review.
> 
> Would love to hear your comments!!!!
> 
> Xoxoxo

Chapter 3

That evening they had dinner once again in her bedroom. For some reason, he thought it was the safest room in the flat because of the way the windows were facing. He had calculated almost every possibility and, even though it was ok to walk about the sitting room and kitchen, at night, the bedroom offered the most secluded environment.

Molly disagreed. It was probably the best hiding spot but it was wickedly tempting to Molly every time he would insist on staying there rather than in any other room.

Like the night before, Molly sat against the pillows of her bed, her back fully resting on the fluffy material. A minute later, Sherlock walked in with two plates of chips and handed one of them to her.

She sat up and brought her legs under her as he lounged on his side, propped up on his elbow and stretched on the mattress.

He was wearing black jeans, a white t-shirt and he was barefoot and Molly wondered if that was how it felt to share domestic bliss with someone... with him. The moment felt very intimate and it stirred up all sorts of emotions inside Molly’s chest she wished were not there.

Sherlock seemed to fancy chips more than anything as he just lay there, enjoying his food like she had never seen him do before. Quietly, Molly just took the time to look at him and take in the moment knowing that it wouldn’t last long, knowing that she was living on borrowed time.

“Like what you see?” he asked playfully making Molly avert her eyes instantly.

She composed herself, cleared her throat and got busy with the food.

Sherlock turned and looked up at her, as she looked straight at the telly.

“Molly?” he asked now staring at her.

“What?” she asked nonchalantly not taking her eyes away from the screen trying to suppress a smile. She knew he had caught her staring.

“Were you staring at me?” he asked straightening up a little, leveling his head with hers.

Molly turned beet red. A flush crept up her neck and tinted her cheeks brightly. She finally looked at him and held his gaze but didn’t answer, afraid words would fail her.

Sherlock cocked his head to the side and squinted slightly as he read her expression. He couldn’t help but smile a little as saw her face getting crimson. Slowly, he set the tray on the nightstand and turned towards her.

“Since we are stuck here together, can I ask you something?” said Sherlock. His tone was very genuine and curious.

Molly just nodded, not knowing where he was going with this.

“Why do you fancy me?” he asked and before she could get the wrong message added, “Seriously, I’m arrogant and egotistical...I’m selfish and narcissistic...why would you...why would anyone like me?”

Sherlock was being incredibly honest and genuinely concerned. She couldn’t figure out what had brought him to such an insightful state but it was pleasant to see this side of him.

Running her hand down her hair she set the chips on the nightstand and turned to face him. Her stomach was in knots but it wasn’t just her nervousness that bothered her, it was the fact that Sherlock couldn’t seem to fathom that he could be liked. 

“Why would you ask me that?” she started to say but he quickly interrupted her. 

“No, no, no.... Seriously, tell me...why do you like me?”

Molly had been infatuated with Sherlock for the longest time. She even had come to the occasional thought that she loved him, but love was a big word. She had tried to have him notice her in so many ways that she had lost count and now, things were different, he had purposely come to her for help and he was there, simply asking her to tell him why she felt the way she did.

Molly closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. It wasn’t like every day Sherlock Holmes would ask you to put into coherent words such complicated emotions.

“Against what most people would say and think, you are caring and generous in your way,” she started to say. “You are brilliant and stoic but above all, you are inherently a good man...and that’s what I like about you...you try to keep everyone at arm's length but some of your actions mean otherwise and that’s why I care for you.”

Sherlock listened attentively. No one had ever said those things to him. Usually, it was more along the lines of self-centered and sociopath.

“How do you see all this in me when I have mostly been cruel to you?,” he asked referring specifically to that Christmas’ Eve at Baker Street. Sherlock had not been able to forget what he had said then and how upset he made Molly feel.

“I have learned to see through your bullshit Sherlock,” she replied offering him a smile that felt warm and forgiving. “And you are extraordinary...you have done things most people won't do".

"What's that?" he asked.

"Not everyone would put his life on the line for his friends....”

Having said that, she reached out and placing her hand on his face continued to speak, “I know a good man when I see him, I know you are a good man, Sherlock Holmes.” And with those simple words, she obliterated all her fears and did what felt right. She slowly moved in to place a soft and loving kiss on his lips.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The kiss was chaste and it conveyed all her feelings for him. She had never given anyone a kiss that was so meaningful, so soft and yet so emotionally charged.

Slowly she broke away and, opening her eyes, maintained her hand on his cheek, cupping his face as she stared into his blue eyes.

Sherlock blinked, and took a moment to look at Molly in silence. He could feel his own pulse speeding up and knew his body was responding to her touch. 

Somehow he seemed to get lost in her eyes, feeling the warmth of her hand on his face and the thrill of her proximity. Sherlock knew that Molly liked him. He knew she had liked him for quite a while. But he could never understand why and that was the reason he never took her seriously. He had thought that she was just a young girl infatuated with the idea of him, that it was just a meaningless crush, superfluous and superficial. But that had been until a few days ago when she had approached him at the lab. Then, in the midst of his debacle, she had reached out to him in a way no one had before, avoiding games, pretenses and verbal banter and just plainly telling him that she knew what he was going through his mind when nobody else could and if he should need someone, he could count on her. 

After that, everything she had done for him had only cemented the certainty that her feelings for him were real and that above all she was loyal and trustworthy.

"Thank you," he said softly. "Thank you for everything you have done for me...thank you for this…" he trailed off while moving in to return her kiss.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Molly closed her eyes almost instinctively as his lips touched hers. She inhaled deeply and held her breath as his mouth stayed in contact.

And swiftly, just like it started, it ended.

At first she thought something was wrong but upon seeing the look in his eyes realized that everything was fine and he was just taking his time to take it all in.

"I still don't quite understand why you put up with me...." he said still a little puzzled.

"You don't need to understand...just run with it" she added, sounding playful and happy. She felt strangely giddy and exhilarated not really thinking about what was next.

"I like you Molly...," he started to say "...I don't know if I can ever be who you deserve but I promise I will always honor our friendship and I shall never hurt you."

Molly's eyes teared up and she smiled against his mouth when he came in to kiss her again.

This time he felt more certain, more determined, as if his kisses were laced with a newfound sense of conviction and trust. The kind of trust that grows when two people are thrown together under extreme circumstances like it had happened to them.

His mouth parted slightly, and his warm breath caressed her lips right before his tongue darted out to taste them.

She tasted of salt with a faint hint of honey and she smelled like flowers. The aroma seemed to assault his senses, as it registered somewhere in his mind as if to never forget it, never forget her.

Under his careful touch, Molly's skin felt soft and tender and he couldn't resist the need to explore it further, caress her, feel her. His fingers traced the length of her jaw, setting for a brief moment on her chin before moving down the side of her neck to settle on her shoulder.

Sherlock would have gladly indulge further but didn't want to push it, push her, push them.

Holding her close, he inhaled deeply when her mouth parted open on his and she traced his bottom lip with the tip of her tongue. Sherlock had plenty of ways to explain why his body was reacting the way it was, a simple case of stimuli and reactions brought on by it, but at that moment he really didn't care.

In the back of her mind Molly started to hear bells ringing just as Sherlock broke their contact.

"Someone is at the door," he said slightly out of breath.

Molly opened her eyes feeling confused as if being torn from a pleasant dream and thrust into reality.

Seeing the look on her face Sherlock caressed her cheek and repeated, "someone rang the bell...are you expecting anyone?"

Molly shook her head in confusion. She wasn't expecting anyone and really didn't care about anything but that moment they had just shared.

Sighing deeply she disentangled herself from his hands and jumped off the bed dreading the situation. Quietly she glanced at him over her shoulder and headed out to get the door.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Molly opened the door without asking or checking who it was and instantly, as she realized her mistake, made an attempt to shut it as Lestrade was walking in.

"Shit…," she said opening the door again upon seeing she had sandwiched him against the frame. "I'm sorry...I…"

"S'ok," he responded a little confused as he straightened his clothes and moved past her into the sitting room. "Are you alright?"

Molly nodded and glanced back towards the bedroom briefly before shutting the door completely and answering. "Sorry...I had fallen asleep and I'm still a bit groggy."

Lestrade sized her up noticing her flushed cheeks and the way she kept smoothing down her top but dismissed any thoughts and took a seat in what was Sherlock's chair.

"Molly, sorry I dropped in unannounced but I need your help... it's John" he said obviously concerned. "He was picked up by one of our men today, pissed drunk at a bar picking up a fight with some stupid bloke."

"Oh my God, is he ok?" She asked quickly sitting on the closest chair.

"I don't want to take him in because of this and I think he should be checked out by a physician," explained Lestrade.

Molly nodded and wondered if Sherlock had been listening.

"Let's take him to Bart's, I will come with you," she said while getting up. "Give me a minute."

With that, she rushed to the bedroom to find Sherlock sitting at the edge of the bed. Closing the door behind her back, she walked to him and knelt at his feet.

"You heard?"

By the look on his face, she was certain he had.

"I'll go check on him," she said as she got dressed, throwing on a sweater and grabbing a few things from the dresser.

She was about to head out when Sherlock stood up and took her by the arm, pulled her to him and bent down to kiss her. It wasn't a chaste exchange. It was a little more intense and forceful as if the intensity could convey a sense of concern and urgency he had not expressed before.

"Be careful," he said. "Make sure he's alright."

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Molly rode silently next to Lestrade thinking about John and Sherlock and how things were starting to unfold. She had anticipated that things were going to be complicated for a while, until the dust settled and emotions quieted down, but it seemed like John wasn't going to cope too well with his friends death. And that worried Molly.

John had been dropped at Bart's a few minutes before they got there. Walking in, she greeted the ER receptionist, showed her badge and headed into triage.

When she drew the curtain she found John slumped on the gurney half hanging off the side, eyes closed. He was wearing the same clothes he was wearing earlier at the funeral.

In the back of her mind she remembered the conversation she had with Sherlock earlier and wondered if he could really be so oblivious to the importance he had for his friends. 

She knew that Sherlock could be arrogant but she wondered if he really knew that people did care for him. His friends genuinely cared. Or perhaps he just simply choose to ignore it for some special reason she couldn't even begin to fathom.

Molly approached John and took his pulse. He was a little tacky, probably because he was dehydrated. Or perhaps because his heart was broken.

"John," said Molly. "Can you hear me?"

John opened his eyes, squinting under the blinding lights of the ER and looking up and around he found Molly's figure and focused on her. He brought his hand up and pressed the heel against his temple, wincing in pain as his head started to hurt.

Drawing a chair, she sat by him and tried to make eye contact just as Lestrade walked in.

John looked up and shook his head knowing something was wrong.

"Did I do something bad? He asked, anticipating the answer.

"No... nothing bad," she rushed. "You just had a little too much to drink. That's all."

"Then why is Lestrade here?" asked John. He was hangover, not stupid.

"You may have picked up a fight," she started to say.

"Am I under arrest?" asked John looking at Lestrade.

"No," he reassured him. "But you were close mate."

John tried to move but a sharp stabbing pain forced him to stay put.

"Don't move," said Molly. "You could have a broken rib."

John shook his head. He was nauseated and dizzy but he was well aware of his surroundings.

"Why are you here?" John asked looking at Molly.

"I asked her to come," responded Lestrade. 

"Did you get me here?" asked John having a faint memory of being in a police car.

"We picked you up and I asked Molly to come check on you..." added Lestrade taking a few steps closer to where they were.

"I don't need a babysitter," protested John. "No offense Molly."

"None taken," she responded and added, "But I'm here as your doctor."

"Please don't take me wrong...I would rather be left alone…," said John. "I'm ok...I will be fine."

"John, we know how you feel...we feel the same...let us help…," begged Molly.

John shook his head and said, "I know...but I rather be alone…"

Molly felt very sad upon witnessing John's pain and not being able to alleviate his suffering. She felt guilty and selfish.

"Please Molly, go…I'll be fine," said John and gestured for them to leave.

"We will but first I need to see your x-ray," she started to say getting up and making her way into the hallway.

John closed his eyes and slept hoping everything would soon go away.

Molly met with her colleagues and checked every test they ran on John. He was put on fluids and was bandaged up by the time she returned to his bed.

John was going to be ok and even though she disliked the idea, respected his wishes.

"Everything is going to be fine," she assured him, her hand on his forearm, as she talked. "They will let you go in the morning…"an

John nodded and placed his hand on hers for a moment.

"Thanks," he said, looking at her and then at Lestrade. "I'll be fine".

SHSHSHSHSH

Sherlock walked his mind palace with a box in his hands. In his mental structure he moved down the hallway and past a few doors before choosing one and entering.

In the room he placed the box down and attempted to leave but instead he sat down on the floor and surveyed the contents.

He was putting away pictures of Molly. Images of the past night with her. He was also registering the sounds she made when he moved closer, how her feminine body reacted to him, the smell of her skin and the taste of her lips.

In there he found himself wondering what it would be like to touch her, how her body would feel under his. He even came to imagine her naked, laying down on her bed, her hair wild and her eyes dark with desire.

He wanted to keep it all alive in his mind knowing it would probably all end soon.

He knew that he was going to leave at some point and most likely for quite a while. He also knew that Molly deserved to be happy and he probably wasn't the type to provide her with stability and a white picket fence.

Closing the box he left it in the room and walked back to his immediate reality hoping that she would be back soon.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Molly arrived at around 4 in the morning to find him resting in her bed. The sight was one taken from one of her fantasies but it was very much real and he heart skipped a beat as she made it past the bedroom threshold.

Sherlock was on his back, hands on his belly. His breathing was even as if he was calm and collected when he slept.

She took off her sweater and kicking her shoes climbed into bed with him, something she had quickly gotten used to.

Sherlock sensed the mattress shifting under him and turned to find her at his side. On her face her could read her concern and reaching out he smoothed the frown with his fingers and moved in closer. Sliding his arm under, he brought her to him until Molly was curled up in a ball, her head resting on his chest and her hand clutching the fabric of his shirt.

"John is fine..he is going to be fine," she said.

Feeling her shake, he brought her even closer and started to plant soft kisses on her forehead as his hand caressed her back.

"Sleep Molly," he told her. "I'm here."

Sherlock remained awake for the rest of the night knowing he wasn't going to be there for very much longer. Inside he started to feel restless and all he wanted was to be with Molly and protect her from harm.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

At some point in the early morning, Sherlock fell asleep to the sound of Molly's breathing.

The sunlight was streaming in through the bedroom curtains as Sherlock opened his eyes and surveyed the forms the shadows made on the ceiling.

He stretched and turned to touch Molly and his hand clutched the empty bed sheets. Instantly alert he sat up and looked around as he picked up on the soft sounds of the shower.

In the most unlikely way, his thoughts shot directly to Molly and instantaneously his mind was filled with images of her. Closing his eyes, resting back against the pillow he imagined her naked, under the hot stream of water, steam rising all around her.

Swallowing hard he felt his pulse quicken at the thought of her throwing her head back, letting the water soak her hair, as she arched her back and thrust her chest forward. Sherlock wanted to join her. He wanted to open the door, draw the curtain and step inside with her. He wanted to touch her, see her, feel her…

Suddenly his thoughts were abruptly interrupted when he heard her turn off the water and his anticipation grew as she opened the bathroom door letting the tick steam flow into the rest of the flat. The sweet smell of chamomile and honey hit him first as the aroma of her shampoo flooded the bedroom.

Sitting up, Sherlock looked at the door anticipating her, wanting to see her, wanting to know if she was going to come to him or not. A few seconds went by and Sherlock waited restlessly on the bed waiting for her. When she finally entered the room he was speechless.

Her wet hair looked darker as it fell over her naked shoulders and back. Her skin looked bright under the sunlight and it glistened with tiny droplets of water. Molly held the towel closely wrapped around her small frame waiting, not knowing what to do.

Noticing her hesitation, Sherlock moved across the bed to the other side and sat at the edge with his hands stretched out, beckoning her. He wanted her more than anything, he needed her as he had never needed anyone before.

Molly bridged the distance between them and stood in front of Sherlock, between his legs, dangerously close. One of her hands came up to rest on his shoulder and the other just fell at her side as she waited.

Sherlock made eye contact as his hand traced delicately the outside of her thigh, slowly moving up under the edge of the towel. Molly's heart was already beating out of her chest and she shivered when his fingertips touched her wet skin.

"You are breathtaking," he said moving in, his face dangerously close to the crook of her neck. "How could I have been so blind, Molly…" he questioned as his breath sent shivers down her spine and her hand held onto his shoulder for dear life.

"I take pride in my observation skills and yet I failed to see you…" he continued to say, as his lips brushed the soft skin of her clavicle. "How could I've been so blind…"

Molly stifled a moan as he moved back up and started kissing the side of her neck up to the earlobe. Instinctively Molly moved closer, feeling her legs leaning against the side of the bed and her knees brushing over the inside of Sherlock's thighs.

Pushing her long wet hair away from her face, he exposed her shoulder as Molly tilted her head allowing him better access. Her free hand came up to his hair and she smiled at the feeling of burying her fingers in his locks.

Nibbling her earlobe, he got lost in the sensation and edged closer to her, seeking further contact. Placing his hand on the small of her back, he pulled her towards him feeling her breasts pressing against his chest and her hands gripping at his shoulders.

"Say my name," he told her, his lips brushing against her ear as his voice reverberated deep inside her. "Say it, Molly."

Molly bit her lip and felt her arousal starting to build like a burning fire. She pulled away a few inches, enough to look at him and then, moving in closer whispered back, "Sherlock…"

His name came out as a soft moan making him hard and aroused.

Molly smiled against his skin, loving the powerful sensation.

"Should I say it again?" She asked playfully, biting her lower lip and staring at him straight into his eyes.

Sherlock shook his head, unable to stand her teasing much longer and tried to regain control by taking a moment to observe her, to take her in.

Cupping her face he looked into her eyes and found his desire reflecting at him. Her look was a mix of adoration and need that threatened to push him over the edge of reason, dragging him through the fires of desire and leaving him to die in some forsaken hell.

He was aware of the way his body was reacting to her and it was finally dawning on him that his mind was also drowning with need. He was lost in Molly in a way he had never been before. Purposely or by accident, he didn't know, but at that precise moment, it didn't matter to Sherlock. He just wanted her.

Moving in, he captured her lips with his, opening his mouth over hers, darting out his tongue to taste her. She moaned in the back of her throat and responded eagerly, clinging to him, letting his hands roam freely up and down her back before tugging at the towel and leaving her completely naked.

Molly gasped as the garment pooled at her feet and she broke the kiss for a moment to look at Sherlock. She had never seen him look the way he did. He was flushed, his eyelids looked heavy as if he were caught in a daze and his irises were completely black. 

There was so much she wanted to say and yet no words could fully express her feelings. Pushing every thought aside, she reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it up and off of him revealing his chest to her. 

As if she were blind, her hands touched him, caressing it softly, learning how he felt under her fingers, the firmness of his muscles and softness of his skin.

The sensation of her hands on him inched him further into madness and before she could say anything he stood up and taking her in his arms, spun them around and laid her on the bed.

Afraid to crush her with his weight, he braced himself at each side of her, positioning between Molly's legs as she spread them out to welcome him. Grounding his hips against her, the fabric of his pants rubbed roughly the soft skin of her lips making Molly gasp in anticipation.

Sherlock smiled, loving the sounds of pleasure he was drawing from her. Her moans and gasps were new to him and it aroused him to hear them coming from her for the first time. It was all by and for him and the knowledge of it made him drunk with power.

His mouth descended on hers, as he allowed his body to press against Molly feeling her breasts crushing into his chest sending an electric shock through and through. Reaching out, he took one of her hands in his, and pinned it up, against the mattress, right by her head. Mimicking his actions, he did the same with her other hand and watched her panting for air as he broke the kiss. His body was merely inches away but to Molly, the sudden lack of contact made her ache for it.

"Sherlock," she protested as he moved away from her, suspended above her, just staring into her eyes.

"How much do you want this?" He teased and Molly felt both frustrated and aroused by the game he was playing. She wiggled under him but he tightened his grip and ground his hips down.

Molly resisted and licked her lips as she just looked up at him defiantly.

"As much as you want it," she said, pushing her hips upwards, meeting him halfway, feeling his erection pressing against the front of his pants, painfully aching for release.

Sherlock growled and pressed harder against her, pinning Molly to the bedsheets realizing that he couldn't play the game for much longer. Still holding her down, he attacked the side of her neck, trailing kisses down to her chest before taking her nipple in his mouth.

Molly arched up wanting more and whimpered when Sherlock drew his teeth over her breast, sending her into overdrive.

Sherlock didn't care much about human bonding but he was no stranger to being a proficient lover. He knew where and how to touch. And most importantly, what to avoid to drive his partner crazy...and he was putting all that into play with Molly.

Purposely he let go and started to move further down, dragging his face over the skin of her belly, letting his scruff intensify the anticipation she was feeling as he moved closer to her pubis.

Sherlock let go of her hands and pushing her legs up and apart, moved further down to finally taste her. First, he kissed the inside of her thighs, gently making tiny little circles. His lips were warm and wet and each contact made Molly shake violently.

Slowly, Sherlock moved in, kissing her once on her mound before he darted out his tongue to taste her. Her pussy was bare and smooth to the touch, pink and swollen. He felt Molly's legs close up around his neck, her body quivering as he continued to lick and suck on the slick folds, inching her closer to her first orgasm. 

Disentangling her legs from around him, he pushed them apart and kissed her one more time before moving back up to her mouth. Molly whimpered and started to protest when his lips crushed hers and his hand moved in between them. Sherlock undid the buttons of his jeans, pushed them down and kicked them off, positioning between ser legs and rubbing the head of his cock between her wet lips, teasing her clit. 

"Ohhh god," Molly squirmed as Sherlock looked down into her eyes as he inched his way in, unforgivably slowly. Holding his breath and bracing at her side, he continued to push in, stretching her, getting lost in the heat. 

Molly groaned as Sherlock pressed, and her hands moved to his lower back as he continued working his cock into her.

"Fuck me," Molly pleaded.

Groaning in the back of his throat, Sherlock pushed further and slowly started to move feeling Molly contracting all around him. In a frenzied rhythm, he penetrated her deeper with each thrust, making Molly gasp in pleasure every time he buried himself deep inside. 

The sensation of having her under and all around him was unbearable but his raw need obliterated that and all Sherlock wanted was more.

“Please don’t stop,” screamed Molly as her hands moved down to cup his ass, urging him to move faster, deeper, harder. She needed him, she needed her release. She wanted to feel him come inside.

Sherlock pumped his cock into her, feeling Molly tightening around and moaning his name over and over as if it were her mantra.

Seeking release, she arched her back slightly, pressing against him, feeling the head of his cock hitting her cervix as she came, writhing and convulsing under him, in a violent orgasm that pushed Sherlock over the edge. Thrusting deep one last time, he closed his eyes and filled her up with his thick fluids.

Feeling spent, he remained on top of her and buried deep inside, feeling his heartbeat slowing down. Molly combed his curls away from his face as he rested on her chest and for a brief moment thought she heard him say something.

Sherlock kissed Molly and, in between breaths, whispered unintelligible promises against her fevered skin, knowing deep down, that sooner or later, he would break each and every single one of them.


End file.
